“Where’s Vivi?”

Marchioness Baldwin, who had been doing embroidery, casually asked Josephine.

“I asked Matilda, and she said the mistress has been napping since earlier. She must be exhausted after nursing the twins.”

“Indeed. Raising infants is no small task.”

“Exactly. One is difficult enough, but she has two! How did our young mistress manage to deliver twins with that tiny body of hers? It’s truly remarkable.”

Josephine clutched the cloth she had been using to wipe plant leaves, her face filled with emotion.

“You’re being sentimental. You talk about Vivi like she’s your own child.”

“Well… the mistress is so lovable, and whenever I see her, I strangely want to hug her tight. Watching such a young thing raising children makes me feel both sympathetic and proud. Sometimes I wish she really were my child.”

When Josephine tried to explain herself, Marchioness Baldwin pushed up the glasses perched on her nose and furrowed her brow.

“How dare you covet someone else’s child?”

“Oh, Madam. I’m just saying I envy you.”

Marchioness Baldwin glared at Josephine with disapproving eyes for a while before realizing how petty and childish she was being, then broke into a small laugh.

Indeed. Who couldn’t love that girl?

Everyone adored Vivianne. Sometimes it felt bothersome to Marchioness Baldwin, who was particular about whom she kept close.

But she fully acknowledged that Vivianne was worth it.

Although there was a wet nurse available, Vivianne insisted on breastfeeding the twins herself. Not just one but two babies. Her body was already delicate, and breastfeeding alone would drain all her energy.

Just as Josephine said, she was a child raising children.

While it was common for noble daughters to marry young, she was still at an age when she should have many things she wanted to do.

It must be stifling to be confined in the mansion caring for babies. Yet she showed no interest in taking care of herself, devoting all her attention to the children. Her strong maternal instinct, unusual for her age, was somewhat heartbreaking.

“Madam, it’s already eleven o’clock. The Duke of Larson will be arriving soon.”

“Is it that time already?”

Marchioness Baldwin put down her embroidery needle and removed her glasses.

Since they had planned to have lunch together, she needed to prepare to receive her guest.

“Um… what exactly is the relationship between Miss Vivianne and the Duke?”

Josephine asked cautiously while helping her mistress change clothes.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, the mistress gave birth to two of the Duke’s children. They bear the Larson name, so they’re Larson heirs.”

“That’s right.”

“But the mistress is still a ‘Baldwin,’ isn’t she?”

Josephine kept tilting her head in confusion the more she thought about it.

Vivianne Baldwin.

Before the twins were born, Vivianne had been formally adopted, so Baldwin was indeed her legal surname.

The Marchioness had worried that her nephew, Baron Grieam, might harbor resentment over the matter, but he remained quiet, possibly because Duke Larson had included him in a business venture he had been eyeing, using his connection to Vivianne. The Duke had likely considered this aspect in advance.

Baron Grieam probably judged that gaining the position of being connected to Duke Larson and obtaining lucrative business rights was more beneficial than receiving a bit more inheritance.

Seeing how everything had been calculated and arranged in advance, Kian von Larson was certainly a meticulously shrewd man.

Marchioness Baldwin thought this was also part of Larson’s courtship of Vivianne.

However, despite the passage of time, nothing much had changed between Duke Larson and Vivianne.

“So?”

“He visits every weekend despite his busy schedule. Baldwin isn’t even close to Larson. And he still writes letters every day during the week. He seems utterly devoted to the mistress.”

“He’s consumed by guilt for his sins.”

“Still, in a way, the mistress is quite remarkable. If it were me, I would have fallen for those letters immediately…”

“…There you go again with unnecessary comments, Josephine.”

“I’m sorry, Madam. I suppose I’m getting nosy in my old age.”

Though she scolded her, the Marchioness understood why Josephine was curious.

From a third-person perspective, the relationship between those two was certainly not typical. Marchioness Baldwin was well aware of this.

The children already had the Larson surname, and he said they would be formally registered later, so they weren’t illegitimate, but the couple wasn’t married.

He had proposed before, and they had been engaged, but it had fizzled out. Perhaps the current situation entirely reflected Vivianne’s desire to stay at Baldwin.

It wasn’t strange that Duke Larson was anxious about it.

“Coming to see his offspring isn’t such a big deal.”

“But he only briefly looks at the babies and spends the rest of the time waiting for the mistress.”

“That ill-mannered fellow. He should have treated her better when he had the chance.”

Marchioness Baldwin grumbled, glaring at the mirror.

In the mirror stood an old woman with a displeased expression. Even to herself, it wasn’t a particularly pleasant sight.

But what could she do? Even though Vivianne had given birth, thinking about what she had gone through, the Marchioness still wasn’t entirely satisfied.

“My goodness. You’re probably the only person in the world who refers to Duke Larson that way, Madam.”

“Did I say anything incorrect?”

“But he’s so handsome. Do you know how the maids go crazy whenever Duke Larson visits? They all want to catch a glimpse of him because he’s so good-looking. Most men become neglectful after a child is born, but he’s courting her even more passionately. Whatever you say, Madam, I’m dying of envy for the mistress.”

Passionate courtship. Indeed. He was remarkably diligent, never missing a week when he could have easily skipped some.

Thanks to him, Baldwin had to receive guests every weekend, which was bothersome.

Though she didn’t like it, she couldn’t deny that finding a better match in Eligard’s marriage market would be difficult.

“…Well, what does an old woman’s opinion matter?”

What mattered most was what the person concerned thought.

What was going through Vivianne’s mind?

That’s what Marchioness Baldwin wondered most.

* * *

In the darkness of her room, Vivianne was restless. When she suddenly woke up to a sharp pain in her br*asts, her body was already hot.

“Ahh…”

A groan escaped her lips as she barely managed to sit up in bed.

“If you have a baby, these will get even bigger. How will you carry around such heavy things then?”

Vivianne recalled what Kian had once said while looking at her br*asts. As he had predicted, they were large to begin with, but after giving birth, they had swollen to an unmanageable size.

Because of this, she had to have wider clothes tailored.

According to Matilda, the fever and the knotted pain in her br*asts were symptoms of “br*ast engorgement.”

Usually, Matilda would prepare cold compresses and oils to help massage them, but it was already late at night. She tried to endure it, but today the pain was particularly excruciating.

What could be wrong? Had she eaten too many foods that encouraged milk production?

Was it because the twins fell asleep early, preventing the evening feeding?

Or was it because she had napped too long earlier? Even when she tried to ignore the pain and go back to sleep, it was too painful to drift off.

“…Ah!”

Thinking that massaging them herself might help, Vivianne grabbed her br*ast but curled up in pain from the pressure.

“Your hands are too small, so you won’t be able to massage yourself when your milk gets clogged. Right?”

…She hated to admit it, but Kian was right.

“Since you said you wanted a baby, I looked up some books.”

“About what happens to a woman’s body… when she’s pregnant.”

She didn’t know why Kian kept coming to mind at this moment.

When she mentioned having children, he said he had read books and studied the subject.

If I had known this would happen, I should have learned more details myself.

Vivianne regretted passively relying on Matilda’s care. Matilda had briefly left the mansion on an errand. It was awkward to call someone else.

The thought of summoning someone in the middle of the night and presenting her br*asts to be massaged… she wanted to die of embarrassment.

…Wait, what had Kian said about how to handle this?

“They’ll be heavy, so I’ll have to massage and suck them all night long.”

Was it because Kian had said it? Just recalling those words felt obscene. Whether from the mild fever or from embarrassment, her face burned hot.

“I must be crazy. Completely crazy.”

Kian was absolutely out of the question.

Vivianne squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to dispel the image of him persistently sucking and biting her br*asts.

Though they had been, in his words, “a couple who kissed at every opportunity and clung to each other passionately,” they had grown somewhat distant in that regard since living apart.

Of course, Kian would still massage her arms and legs asking if anything hurt, or occasionally give her full-body massages, but nothing beyond that.

She enjoyed his weekend visits. Sometimes they shared light kisses depending on the mood, but the kisses never deepened.

In the past, he would seize any excuse to initiate intimacy, but lately he seemed to have matured and didn’t act on his own.

She thought this level of interaction was just right for now, and that’s why she didn’t mind his visits. Today was also the weekend, so Kian had come and was staying in the guest bedroom.

“Ow! Hnngg…”

Trying to lie down again, Vivianne finally realized she was in no position to be picky. In the battle between pain and embarrassment, pain had decisively won.

She hastily wrapped a shawl around herself from the chair and headed toward the guest bedroom.